Amici Improbabile
by RomansRoad
Summary: Finn McMissile was a hotheaded new agent...and Siddeley was a jet waiting for something interesting to change the daily grind of Heathrow. No slash. Rating subject to change.
1. Chapter 1

"_Chi trova un amico, trova un tesoro."_

_~Mama Topolino_

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><p>"Look, I simply cannot continue to operate in this fashion. Speed I have, tools I have, but they're not going to get me across land or water in a decent amount of time! I can't fly, for goodness' sake!"<p>

"Finn, I realize you're upset, but we just don't have enough planes in our employment for a new agent to justify working with one. What with many of our older agents out in the field after that last mishap in France, and our sky-faring agents busy ferrying them from place to place, we can't spare anyone!"

"Then let it be on your own hood when I'm killed because I couldn't escape fast enough."

"That's enough, McMissile!"

Finn knew he had pushed the head agent of the British Intelligence too far. Ian Camshaft drove forward until his bumper was mere inches from Finn's. "You listen to me, McMissile, and you listen well. You will always be under our watch, and we will do our best in order to keep you alive. But at the same time, we are keeping track of multiple other agents in just as dangerous, if not more, situations as you. We need to plan accordingly. As you are new to the Intelligence, I'm letting you off with a warning: there's a lot more other cars out there risking their bumpers than you can even fathom."

Ian reversed, gave Finn one last look, his eyes softening slightly, and drove away. Finn heard him muse quietly, "Though we could do with more jets."

Sighing noisily, Finn turned and wheeled toward the large glass window that allowed an overlook of the expanse of buildings London had to offer. He gazed out, spotting various jets taking off and arriving in Heathrow. Wondering blithely if any of them would be interested in the life of adventure being a spy had to offer, Finn gazed down at the hidden entrance in the pavement, under which many of the jets caught up on their sleep before taking off on another expedition, helping their land-bound counterparts.

_Pity cars haven't any wings. Wouldn't require assistance all the time from a jet, _Finn thought to himself.

A plane descended onto the runway in front of the agency, coming to a stop right below the window. Finn observed as an agent departed from inside the aircraft, exchanged a few pleasantries with the winged vehicle, and then drove off, leaving the plane to doze awhile before being called away again.

There was no friendship in the life of a spy. Everyone was taught that the moment they entered the academy. It was a dangerous practice, both in that you could easily lose someone close to you, and any friendships could impair your judgment and risk blowing a mission. Was it worth it?

Finn wasn't sure. Part of him realized the damage that could be done if you lost too many cars you were close to, but much of his mind was on how much he missed having friends, vehicles he could talk to and laugh with and forget some of the stress that accompanied his everyday life.

There was also trust. You could trust your friends to do everything to the best of their ability. Would that change on a mission? Sure, agents you worked with, you could trust to watch your back, but they didn't know you beyond association-level. The only reason they really did it was because of the good honest streak in them, and the fact that the agency was strict on protection.

Finn shook off the thoughts and backed away from the window. He wasn't yet being called on for any missions, as he was still too new for much consideration beyond easier assignments. He had time to burn. He had time to make connections.


	2. Chapter 2

"_Only those who will risk going too far can possibly find out how far one can go.__"_

_~T.S. Eliot_

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><p>Siddeley yawned widely as he flew across the Atlantic. It was five in the morning, Eastern Standard Time, and he was on yet another overseas flight for some big shot CEO who refused to fly commercially. Personally, he thought private flights for the public were overrated. They could just fly first-class in one of the many 747s that flew this same route from the United States to Europe. And leaving at midnight? Charming idea for a movie, but to the sleep-deprived jet, there was nothing appealing about it.<p>

A sudden gust of wind interrupted his musings. Siddeley quickly calculated the best altitude to avoid the turbulence, and dropped a little below the clouds he had been flying through.

He was now able to see the ocean, and in the distance, he could make out the first few lights on shore. _Finally._

_Wait…_

Even with the splendid tailwind that accompanied the flight from New York's JFK International Airport to Heathrow in London, there was no way the shores of England would be visible five hours into the trip. That would take another hour, minimum.

But those were awfully bright lights for a ship, even a cruise liner (and what cruise liner would be out here at this time?), to have. As Siddeley squinted in an effort to see what was being illuminated, a beeping on his radar alerted him to another presence in the air. He turned his gaze to the skies and, within seconds, was climbing higher in an effort to avoid the hostile-looking aircraft speeding towards him.

He heard a none-too-pleased exclamation from inside his cabin and winced. So much for impressing the hotshots. It became the least of his worries, though, as his radar blared again.

He inhaled sharply as he recognized the bleeps on the screen as rapidly approaching missiles. Glad for his defensive maneuvering training, Siddeley barrel-rolled and felt a flash of satisfaction when two of the missiles narrowly missed him and exploded.

Two more were still on his tail. He gained more height, rolled from side to side, and dropped at alarming speeds, but couldn't manage to shake the projectile. As the beeping on the radar grew louder and faster, Siddeley shut his eyes and braced for the impact that would surely end the late-night flights for fussy business-cars.

An explosion sounded. Opening his eyes, he saw bits of flak everywhere, pelting his frame. One large piece took a chunk out of his starboard engine. _Not good._ Strangely enough, however, it didn't seem that the missile had struck him. His thoughts were proven correct when another explosive collided with the last missile that was following him and shattered the weapon.

Siddeley glanced around for his rescuer. The lights below him had winked out in the commotion, leaving him entirely in the dark. The silence was eerie.

"Sorry about that, old boy," a voice said beside him.

Siddeley lurched away from the sound in surprise, causing his damaged engine to whine and shudder. Righting himself, he asked, "Sorry for what?"

"Just meant to blow up the missile. I didn't want you to get hit. The bit that took out your engine was accidental." The voice was male, probably a decent bit older than Siddeley. His accent was British.

"That's all right. So you didn't start the fight?"

"Heavens no. We were trying to catch the vehicles behind it. Arthur here about had a fit when they came after you."

Still unable to see whoever it was that was travelling next to him, Siddeley decided that he might as well inquire as to what had just taken place. "Is there any particular reason you've got your lights off?"

"Not quite out of unfriendly territory. I say, what are you doing out here at this dark hour of the morning?"

Making sure his intercom was off inside, Siddeley answered, "Someone couldn't wait for a public flight to London. I happened to 'conveniently' be in the vicinity. So here I am."

"Ah. One of those chaps. Rather irritating at times, aren't they? Though London is wonderful this time of the year. What with the leaves changing color and the brisk air. Quite refreshing." The unknown aircraft had a very cheerful tone, despite the incident only a few minutes before.

"What's your name?"

Flicking his lights on so that Siddeley could finally see what his companion looked like, the jet replied, "Of course! How rude of me. The name's Edmund." He was a Mirage IIIV, painted a solid navy blue. Siddeley fought to keep from smiling at the thought of how loud the Edmund's voice was in comparison to his size.

"Right. Will you be able to make it to London with that bad engine?" Edmund continued.

"Probably. It's not too bad." Siddeley wasn't about to say that flying right now was taking every ounce of effort he had.

"Excellent. Though, seeing as I was partially the cause of said accident, I'll escort you to Heathrow. That all right with you, Arthur?"

Edmund paused to listen, and then smiled. "He's says that fine, we've gotten what we came for in the first place."

The two flew in silence for the rest of the journey, excluding the discussion Siddeley had with his passengers. _Which could have gone worse, I suppose, _he thought after receiving a thorough berating from the CEO.

Siddeley kept casting subtle glances at the plane alongside him. Edmund was certainly a godsend, considering the location of the attack, but Siddeley was extremely curious as to who these vehicles really were and what they were doing this far out. He had decided against asking straight out what Arthur and Edmund worked as, and settled for observing. An older plane, Edmund had been outfitted with all sorts of state-of-the-art equipment, some of which Siddeley had never even seen before. Flaps and doors, only noticeable if you were looking for them, hid what the younger plane figured were weapons.

One thing was certain: Edmund was no ordinary aircraft.

* * *

><p><em>AN: Definitely a longer chapter, and hopefully an idea of what future chapters will be like. A few things, just so the story makes more sense._

_-The flight from New York to London takes about 6 hours, 50 minutes (give or take some), and the trip back from London takes about 7 hours and 30 minutes. There is a jetstream across the Atlantic that makes the flight to London much faster._

_-New York is five hours behind London when it comes to time zones._

_-The Mirage IIIV does exist. It is a French aircraft that was designed for near-vertical takeoff and landing, and could accomplish a little over Mach 2. However, after several accidents, the project was cancelled and the remaining plane (there were two to begin with) was placed in a museum in Le Bourget, France._


	3. Chapter 3

"_Reputations are made by __searching__ for things that can't be done and doing them__."_

_~Frank Tyger_

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><p>Finn paused briefly just outside headquarters, making sure all was safe, before smoothly merging into the busy London traffic. Not yet a well-known agent (hardly anyone at the spy center of operations even remembered his name), he was able to travel with the general public without arousing any suspicion.<p>

He had alerted Ian that he was off on an excursion. Ian had waved a tire and continued scrolling through pages of research on the British Intelligence's latest case—some covert operation in the middle of the Atlantic. The agency was still in very early stages of the operation. Two of their best agents were out in that field right now.

Jets came screaming down onto the tarmac at Heathrow. Finn had parked just outside the chain-link fence on the outer rim of the airport, observing the coming and going of the planes. One sight in particular caught his attention.

A small fighter-jet was flying beside a much bigger plane, who had smoke pouring out of one of its engines. Finn squinted, trying to make out who they were. He was quickly given an answer as the fighter-jet landed vertically at the end of a runway.

_Edmund, _Finn realized, and sped away from the fence toward the employee entrance. He was stopped by an officer, but was signaled through after displaying his identification with the Intelligence.

He arrived at the runway where Edmund was parked just as the damaged plane was coasting in for a landing. The aircraft, three times Edmund's size, had a certain grace about him that Finn liked to see, an ease to the way he put down, one that suggested this plane knew everything there was to know about flying and was extremely confident in his abilities.

"Bravo!" Edmund called. "A five-star landing, even with that engine of yours."

"What happened?" Finn asked.

"Finn! I didn't even see you there. It was a good show out on the Atlantic this morning, everything we've been after is most certainly correct!" Edmund laughed in his deep voice. Here was an agent who enjoyed what he did. Opening a hatch and lowering it to the ground, Edmund allowed a car to disembark.

"Hello, McMissile," the car, a black Mitsuoka Ryoga, said formally.

Finn nodded in greeting. "Hello, Arthur." The older spy car was never known for being much of a talker. Edmund held tightly to the statement that Arthur could tell some of the best stories around, however.

"Oh my." Edmund's voice caused Finn to reverse and look in the direction the plane was staring.

The bigger jet had allowed his passengers off, and was on the receiving end of a very loud tirade about bad service and a horrible ride and how there was no way the plane could actually be a private jet, seeing the quality of his flight.

Edmund wheeled up to the passenger plane just as the business-cars departed for the airport terminal. "Don't let it get you down; you knew what you were doing."

"It's not really that big of a deal. I don't want to see the feedback my boss will be getting, though." A frustrated expression darkened the jet's eyes for a moment.

"Don't get your tail in a knot. We'll have it sorted out before you get back to the States," Edmund promised. "Now, ah…what is your name? I cannot believe I never asked."

"Siddeley."

"Well, Siddeley, you'd best be getting your engine fixed up. I really would like to stay around and make sure the job gets done right, but I'm afraid I've got some rather pressing matters that have to be seen to." Edmund let Arthur back on and closed the hatch.

"No matter. It was nice meeting you both." Siddeley pivoted and prepared to head back to the terminal.

"Wait just a minute, if you will," Finn said, turning quickly to Edmund. "I'd like to speak with this jet. Tell them back at headquarters, will you?" He kept his voice low.

"Splendid of you, Finn. He really is a wonderful chap. I'll pass along the message. Mind what you say and where you say it, though. Dangerous grounds we're on." Edmund grinned and took to the skies, headed for his debriefing.

Finn drove over to where Siddeley was waiting for him. They began a slow and steady pace back to the airport.

Bursting with questions, Finn started his own debriefing of the jet that now rolled alongside him.

"Is Siddeley your real name?"

Siddeley gave Finn a look. "Yes. My full name is Siddeley Harrier Astraeus. Odd question, I must say. Do you always begin your conversations this way?"

"Sometimes. How old are you?"

"Not very."

"That's not an answer."

"It is in the sense that I replied to your question. It may not have been the response you were looking for, but it is a response." Siddeley's mouth quirked up in a slight smile as he looked away from Finn.

Finn snorted. "Witty. I like it. How did you end up here anyways?"

"Overnight flight for an impatient CEO. Got more than I bargained for."

"I can see that."

"No, you can't."

"Pardon?"

"You only see the outside effects."

Finn mulled that statement over for a while. Witty and insightful.

"All right, Siddeley. You've got me. How much more than you bargained for?"

Siddeley laughed, a full, deep, rich sound.

* * *

><p><em>AN: A few things I would like to add, explanations really. _

_-Arthur's model does exist, I suppose I'll give you a URL so you can see what type of car I'm envisioning...I really do like it. .com/mitsuoka/2005-ryoga/800x600/wallpaper__

_-This is what I picture Edmund as. .org/aircraft/bomber/mirage4/mirage4__

_-Siddeley's middle and last name are my own ideas, but they do have a root in reality. Harrier is part of "Hawker Siddeley Harrier", the first in a line of V/STOL (vertical/short takeoff and landing) planes that was a successful line of aircraft. His last name, Astraeus, is based off of both a small British airline that runs mainly charter flights, as well as the Greek god of the four winds. _

_Always, thank you for taking the time to read and review! Extremely appreciated!_

_~RR_


	4. Chapter 4

_"A friend is one who walks in when others walk out."_

_~Walter Winchill_

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><p>"Believe me, I will be surprised if I still have a job after today is over."<p>

Siddeley had finished recapping his night flight for Finn just as the two reached the terminal. It was a rather complicated task; Siddeley had to answer frequent questions of Finn's without losing his place in the story.

"So, might I ask why you're here, then?" Siddeley said when they pulled to a halt. "They don't usually let many cars on the tarmac."

Finn looked away. "I was due to meet Edmund and Arthur when they arrived."

Siddeley rolled his eyes, unseen by Finn. "At least come up with something mildly believable if you can't tell the truth. And make it interesting. I can't stand dull lies." He was no idiot. Details were his specialty. When one spent life in a routine, he figured he might as well observe goings-on and see what stood out each day. It made life more exciting. Though many had allowed themselves to be lulled into ignorance and oblivion by the repetitive lifestyle, Siddeley had decided to be unique. "The way Edmund was talking, he had no specific plans as to when he was going to get back."

"All right! I was out and happened to see them. I wasn't per se _looking _for them, but as they showed up, I thought it best to have a word with Edmund." Finn paused, and then added, "Arthur doesn't say much."

Laughing again, Siddeley answered, "I can see you can't talk much about your activities. Very well. How about you? Your name's Finn McMissile, I presume, unless that's a nickname given to you by your friends."

Finn frowned slightly at the word 'friends'. "It's not. A nickname, that is."

A small forklift approached Siddeley and began to inspect his engine while the jet continued talking to the car beside him.

"Well then, Finn—does it look like I hit a bird?—what do you—yes, of course, I went and picked a brawl with the first angry bomber I came across, _what kind of mechanic are you?_—excuse me, what do you do for a living?" Siddeley breathed slowly, calming himself down after his small outburst at the forklift. He didn't usually respond that heatedly to anyone.

Finn glanced around evasively. He appeared deep in thought, running a tire back and forth across the same patch of ground.

Siddeley half-closed his eyes as he waited for a response, realizing how tired he really was. "Can't talk about that either?"

"Not here."

"Fair enough." Siddeley yawned. This certainly was a surprise. The exhaustion he hadn't felt coming on suddenly hit him like a heavy landing on concrete. _All of the excitement, I suppose. Must be why I'm so irritable. _

Finn's voice, when it came, sounded distant. "I can see you're tired. Rightfully so. I will leave you to your nap."

"No, it's—" Siddeley fought off another massive yawn. "It's fine. I can stay awake." As he spoke, however, he felt his lids slipping shut, blocking out the morning light that was spilling over Heathrow.

He heard the sound of an engine being put in reverse. "Don't worry about it. I should be going anyways," Finn said. "I hope everything goes well, Siddeley. It was a pleasure meeting you."

"And the same to you."

Siddeley listened to Finn's tires as he drove away over the well-worn tar, before the noise was quickly lost amongst all the other sounds of the busy London airport.

Siddeley sighed to himself. He had really liked that car. _Probably should have done a better job staying awake. _By the sound of Finn's farewell, it didn't seem as though the two vehicles would be seeing each other again, at least not anytime soon. But then, as soon as Siddeley had started asking questions, Finn had shut down, offering only the barest of answers. It wasn't as if the car was going to give a hearty goodbye, not after he had gone hushed.

Edmund and Finn were most definitely acquaintances, and Siddeley was willing to bet quite a few overnight flights that their jobs were anything but ordinary. Who would be out in the middle of the Atlantic in the dead of night, armed and ready?

Finn rode differently than other cars of his model too; he was much lower on his tires than others Siddeley had seen, almost as if his frame was weighed down with something. It didn't seem to affect his driving at all, so there had to be some technology at work there. And Edmund was able to land vertically. There were few planes around that could accomplish that.

So these vehicles were beyond the times when it came to technology. _So what? _Siddeley found himself thinking, but instinct told him the departure from normal mattered.

How many professions were that far up to speed? There were scientists everywhere working on new technologies, but few were available to the public.

_Public._

Siddeley opened his eyes abruptly. He watched as various forklifts and a couple cars worked on his destroyed engine, but his thoughts were far away from the pieces of metal being pulled away from his body.

_Finn and Edmund don't work in public._

Feeling like a young jet again, watching the movies about James Bond and experiencing the thrill every time the suave Aston Martin barely made it out of a nasty situation alive, Siddeley was certain he was correct.

_They were spies. _

* * *

><p><em>AN: Pretty clever jet, that Siddeley._

_I had a lot of fun with this chapter. Kindly make me aware of any glaring errors (notice I said 'kindly'!)_

_-Finn's model doesn't exactly exist; it's a blend of several other models, including the Volvo P1800, BMW 507, and the beloved Aston Martin DB5 (thank you James Bond!), however, for the sake of the story, I am saying he is just another model. A very good one, though._

_-I used James Bond. But not Bond, as in James Bond (fine, I enjoy saying that!). There actually was a British car maker named 'Bond', and I thought it too good an opportunity to waste. The company existed from 1948-1974, and tended to create those three-wheeled vehicles (similar to another character we know from Cars 2.)_

_Thanks for reading and reviewing!_

_~RR_


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